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“I have found out at last what a useless person I am —from a utilitarian point of view. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. Poor little one. She was never able to trace the changes her attitude had undergone, from the time when she believed herself to be the pampered Queen of Fortune, the crown of a good man’s love (and secretly, but nobly, worshipping some one else), to the time when she realized she was in fact just a mannequin for her lover’s imagination, and that he cared no more for the realities of her being, for the things she felt and desired, for the passions and dreams that might move her, than a child cares for the sawdust in its doll. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. “Very likely. . Here was the corner-stone of a capital story; but he knew that Howard Spurlock would never write it. They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. He was disappointed when Intermission arrived. Only in man is the male made the most important. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth.
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